Life Aquatic

So we should be hitting the beach sometime next week, all of us, with C.’s family. It’s about two hours away in Rhode Island. We go together at least once every year. I always look forward to it, not just for the ocean, but for lunch, which is always, always at the same place, whose name I can never remember but know on sight. There everyone but me snarfs down lobsters and clams and scallops galore and I get to sit there, happily munching my friesw/malt vinegar  and field questions regarding my seafood issues as the lobster carcasses pile up high on the table at the bacchanal. Always the same questions…

“Cheryl, how can you not like seafood? Such a waste”, C’s mom will offer as she winces at me and my cheeseburger.

“uh huh” I nod, snarfing another fry.

“It’s so good for you!”

“uh huh”.

And then the kicker:

“Do you ever think you’ll ever like seafood?”. Again from C’s mom. Whom I adore, btw. But God, no. People change their minds about stuff like that?

I made up my mind long, long ago on that one. Although I used to eat fish and looked forward to Friday nights at my grandfather’s when he’d bring two huge, gigantic platters for everyone and we’d play on this little merry-go-round he’d made. And then I found a fleck of fish scale right between the crispy goodness and the pearly white meat. And that was it, forever. Once in a while, I’ll eat tuna if Emm wants it, but if I find one bone, it’s a good six months before I can open a can again. Visuals are so important.

I do love the ocean, though I don’t get there as often as I’d like. When C. and I were thinking of moving, he’d get all dreamy over the Midwest, where he’d spent the summer and I’d freeze and change the subject. I don’t think I could do it (sorry, Betsy). Vermont is one of my favorite places, but again, no coastline.

I just like knowing it’s there.


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August 2006
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